


inequalities

by anistarrose



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, TAZ November Celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anistarrose/pseuds/anistarrose
Summary: “One day, I made the decision to stop championing other people's heroism, and to take the direction of my life into my own hands. And, I lost dear, dear friends because of that decision, but it was the only one to make.”Lucretia sees just how much she’s taken, and just how much her whole family has lost. Picks up immediately after Magnus sees her feed the journals to Fisher.
Relationships: Davenport & The Director | Lucretia, Magnus Burnsides & The Director | Lucretia, The Director | Lucretia & Everyone, The Director | Lucretia & Taako
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	inequalities

**Author's Note:**

> For [TAZ November Celebration](https://taznovembercelebration.tumblr.com/) Day 29: Lost.

“I love you, Magnus, I love all of you. I’m sorry —” She doesn’t know if he can hear her; she doesn’t know what it feels like for him, for _any_ of them, to lose to much to the static all at once. “It’ll be over soon —”

She eases Magnus, her _brother,_ over to the bed, and he sinks onto it with such a _dazed_ look in his eyes. It’s a look she hasn’t seen from him since the last few days she saw him alive on the mushroom planet, battling a spore infection from within — it broke her heart to see him go back then, and it breaks her even _worse_ this time, like snapping a bone that didn’t heal back as strong as it should have. 

But it’s _temporary_ this time too, she repeats to herself. He’ll be back, she’s _bring_ him back in a safer world.

“You’ll — you’ll feel so much better when you wake up,” she chokes out, casting _Sleep._ “Like this was… all just a bad dream. I’ll find you somewhere to stay, I’ll — I’ll fix _everything_.”

His eyelids droop, bringing peace to confused eyes, while the corners of his mouth tilt to form a peaceful smile. He clings to a pillow in one arm, and to something small and wooden in the other — one last duck carving, carefully painted dark brown and crimson red with a little silver pair of glasses.

“I’ll be — I’ll be right back. I swear,” Lucretia promises, averting her gaze. “Sleep tight, Magnus.” 

*

She makes haste towards the Starblaster’s deck, because she _knows_ Barry had been out there all morning, and she can’t bear the thought of him getting dizzy and falling. But when she flings open the door, she sees only Taako — alone and on his knees, frightened eyes flitting up to see who just burst onto the deck with such urgency.

“W-who are you?” he stammers, and Lucretia’s heart lurches. He’s being _so_ much more vulnerable than she’d ever imagine Taako to be towards a _stranger_ — but there’s still something guarded about his expression, something about the way his ears and lower lip quiver in place. Something _guilty_.

Her eyes drift to the swath of ground that Taako had been fixated on, and instantly, she sees what’s vexing him. Beneath the deck’s railing lie a scant few drops of blood, still wet and unoxidized — but lacking an obvious source, because _Taako’s_ unscathed. 

The absent wound may not have been fatal; there’s no way for Lucretia to tell. But there’s no way for _Taako_ to tell either, and he’s smart enough to pin himself as the culprit even if he can’t remember the deed.

“Did I… hurt someone?” he asks. “Is that — is that why you’re crying?”

“No,” she lies, suddenly all-too-aware aware of the tears trickling down her face as she kneels, taking Taako’s head in her hands. “No, you didn’t hurt _anyone,_ Taako. You’d never want that, would you?” She knows he didn’t _want_ to hurt anyone with the Philosopher’s Stone, she knows he’d never _want_ to hurt Barry —

“I don’t know,” Taako mumbles. “I don’t _know_ what I want. I — I’m _lost_.”

He wipes the blood with a flick of his hand, smearing red across the pristine white deck. “And I think… I might be desperate. I don’t know what I did to wind up here, but… I don’t think I had much left to lose.”

Lucretia doesn’t know what to say, what she _can_ say. After all, as she knows better than anyone — not _wanting_ to hurt someone doesn’t mean you won’t do it anyway.

If Taako started this day with little left to lose, is he ending it with even _less?_

*

Merle and Davenport are on their feet — or rather, upon closer inspection, _Merle’s_ on his feet with Davenport’s limp arm braced over his shoulders, and Lucretia’s stomach plummets the moment she realizes as much.

“Oh, thank Pan!” Merle exclaims. “I dunno _how_ I got on your spaceship, lady, but this guy here needs help!”

“I’m Davenport,” Davenport blurts out, and for some reason, Merle flinches.

“You — you look competent. Gods, I _hope_ you’re competent,” he tells Lucretia, eyes darting around the room with no apparent goal. “I just, I — I crossed paths with this guy, uh, _somewhere_ — but he’s real upset about something and I just don’t know _what!_ Is he gonna be okay? Do you know what _happened_ to him?”

“I’m Davenport,” Davenport repeats, twitching and tugging at the collar of his shirt. Sweat is beading on his face, far worse than it had Magnus’s or Taako’s or Merle’s. “I’m _Davenport_.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Lucretia manages, well aware that the hitch in her voice must make her promise hard to believe. “You’re _safe_. I’ll take care of everything for you —” _So you don’t have to live in the shadow of the Hunger any longer; so you don’t have to live with the guilt and the heartache of all the failures and losses, until I can make sure it’ll_ never _have to happen again —_

“I’m Davenport,” Davenport echoes. “Dav-en-port. Davenport. _Davenport_.” 

“I — I was gonna say,” Merle stammers, “that I think that’s all he _can_ say —” 

“Davenport!!” his captain cries, flinging scattered teardrops to the floor with a jerk of his head, and Lucretia is positive that he’d meant to shout _Help!_

“I-I-I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry, Captain —”

She falls to her knees, to Davenport and Merle’s height, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in Davenport’s crimson sweater to muffle her sobs. “I didn’t _know_ — I didn’t mean to — I didn’t think it would —”

Her once-infinite words fail her, as if she’s inadvertently but karmically stripped them away from herself, too. When she’d passed the point of no return, feeding the first journal — or even earlier, when she’d first capitulated to the thought that Lup might not be coming back — she’d known, in essence, what she was doing… but she’d never been prepared for how increasingly horrible, how incomparable, how _unequal_ each new loss would be. 

It had been Lup first, of course — undisputed heart of the team, leaving and plunging the rest into first denial, then unrest, then despair. Then Magnus, rushing in at just the wrong moment to see what Lucretia had done; to see Fisher, who was more of a _child_ than a pet to him, as the centerpiece of the betrayal. Magnus, looking at her in the eyes and clearly not seeing _anything_ familiar, except perhaps a resemblance to his lovingly carved duck.

Taako, a shell holding nothing but guilt and an empty heart — still sharp enough to know he’d done something awful, but too numb to know if he regretted it. Barry, either dead and despising her, or alive and amnesiac with no idea where to turn for help. There’s no guessing how badly Fisher can affect _him,_ because he’d been with the Institute the _second_ longest after…

Davenport, clearly aware he should _know_ and be able to _say_ so much more. Clinging to just three syllables, clinging to Merle — _Merle,_ so preoccupied with entreating one total stranger to help a second that he’s hardly acknowledging the holes in his own memories. Merle, who is _still_ friends with everyone by default; Merle, who one could only opt _out_ of being friends with, and only with considerable effort.

Lucretia had spent so much time, scrawled so many addendums and redactions, to conclude that even if these losses ached, they should at least be _equal_. She’d miscalculated terribly, and gone into each goodbye unprepared.

Now, all she can do is scrape together what elements of her plan remain undisrupted, and make sure that each and every sacrifice her family has made — or _had made_ for them — will be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, comments/[reblogs](https://anistarrose.tumblr.com/post/636257375501860864/inequalities-ao3-for-taznovembercelebration) are welcomed as always! I listened to "Relic" by Reeder a whole lot while writing this one, so you can blame that piece for a solid 40 percent of the angst in here.
> 
> if you want to read a TAZ November fic I wrote that's a bit fluffier, you can check out [this Blupjeans one!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689947)


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